The cherries being popped were the Comic-Con virginities of myself and Vanity Fair colleage Krista Smith, and what better popper than Munn, whose presence on the convention floor has been known to set off Dionysian frenzies that require the presence of fire marshals to restore order. It is hard to square this pagan fervor and Munn's controversial reputation in certain sectors of the sisterhood with the maiden before me, who uses words like "prithee" and "hark!" in fluted conversation and walks barefoot in the dew, when dew's available. But we are, so many of us, radically different from our media reputations, a subject with which I would compare notes with Olivia if I had any notes of my own.
My presence at Comic-Con seems to strike some as anomalous. Spotting me and noting my press badge, a powerful Hollywood journalist wanted to know, "Is this Graydon's idea of a cruel joke?" Along with similar related questions along the lines of "What are you doing here?" and "How'd you get roped into this?," I sense a certain theme developing. I have too much pride to point out that as a teenager I had a letter published in the Fantastic Four during the Lee-Kirby heyday, which in and of itself shows that I have Comic-Con DNA.
What have I done so far? I had a lovely chat with Andy Serkis, whose Caesar in Rise of the Planet of the Apes augurs to take performance capture to an even higher, more emotionally powerful plane, glimpsed Carey Mulligan and Nicolas Cage, watched Justin Timberlake, Amanda Seyfried, and Charlize Theron promote their goods, had dinner last night with Ms. Munn, Krista Smith, and Vanity Fair's Sasha Bronner, discussing ever so many things, and am about to head off to a press conference whose lineup includes Colin Farrell, though I don't imagine I'll get to ask any of the Miami Vice questions burning inside me.
Source: http://www.vanityfair.com/online/wolcott/2011/07/ive-never-popped-two-cherries.html
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